The S2 is seated at her desk in blues, though the jacket is unbuttoned. She has a half finished cup of coffee, and she's finishing up some notes in a file. Looks like she's about to go off duty, or is already halfway there. There's a marine in back watching the screens as images from throughout the ship flicker on them. Sal flips a page and signs.

And through the door, a familiar face on the day the music died..or at least the wadroom was bombed comes in. Though this time he is clad in his duty greens, and not in the ridiculous unicorn t-shirt he was wearing when he was found bound in one of the chairs, in here. There's a faint look over to the corner, and then back over to the duty Sergeant, before he's moving to slip further in-making his way past the marine CO's desk to the S2's own desk. A glance back towards the duty Sergeant, in which a faint nod can be seen.

Breathe.

Snapping to attention Gresham, raises his hand up to hold in a quick, salute. "Crewman Apprentice Virgil Gresham, reporting-Sir." Not Ensign, not ma'am. Sir. Still-there's no general aura of happiness, or chipper disposition. Maybe, no one wants to be in his shoes right now. Even himself.

Salazar does not seem in any way surprised by Virgil's greeting. Sir is, of course, the proper greeting. She glances up from her paperwork. "Gresham. Have a seat." She nods to the chair across from her. "I understand you had a close encounter with PFC Ozymandias the other night." She closes the folder, and sets it atop a stack nearby. "How about you give me a run down of that evening, the best you can recall, in as much detail as you can remember."

"Thank you sir." You can give Kai, Legacy, and Fenris some kudos-they do know how to instill some professionalism into their nuggets. Salute down he reaches for the chair, and then sinks himself in. ONe hand coming up to scratch and rake through the crop of spikey red hair he sports, before, smoothing it vaguely back. "I've had several close encounters with Ju-with PFC Ozymandias." Gresham notes with a bit of a snerk. And then whatever he had thought humorous is gone in a flash. A nod.

Swallow

"I had come down in my civilian wear, sir. Just got approved for shore leave, and the thing is- we were supposed to to be heading on leave together if able-kinda like a." a pause "Well, as a date." And he coughs into his hand nervously. "When I showed up, she was coming out with a green bag, and in her blacks? MP gear-you know like you see everyone wearing while on guard rotations." A pause and Virgil looks away-eyes looking for something to fiddle with. "She told me you cleared her for leave and that the bag was her luggage.." a pause "It-it didn't feel right. So I asked why she had her bag ready-She said it was of course so we could leave, and asked if I would fly us down there..I said It didn't make sense, and I said we should make sure before we left. So she said we'd wait for you."

A pause as hands reach for a pen..something to fiddle with-The ADD kicking in. "Then—then she kissed me…I mean really-Well that's not important." flat laugh before he's looking back up. "She told me she was sorry-that she didn't want it like this-then I got knocked out.. My eyes weren't open.." a slight rise in his cheeks, before his thumb rolled over his lip. "I-that's what happened."

Salazar listens. She leans forward to reach for her coffee mug, but she doesn't once interrupt the man's words. She gives him time to relate his account, and nods slightly here and there. Her pencil is set down at the mention of a 'date'. She thinks on it for a moment, then says, "Did she ever ask you any information particular to your job training that a marine wouldn't have?" She refrains, just barely, from making a comment about Jules' and her sexual lures.

Gresham pauses for a moment, as he looks back up-the pen clicking nervously along. "No." said finally. "The only thing she's asked me is, what I did before coming upon the Kharon. Besides that-" and he's quiet "We talked about things, I guess people don't talk about-well not people who aren't gigantic nerds. Like we talked about werewolves, and monsters. Ghost stories- and unicorns." And there's a faint frown there. "We snuggled and laughed. Never really spoke about work, or serious shit. Talked about our families where we were from. That we liked each other." and he's bringing his other hand up to rub under his nose. "She was helping me with my marksmanship with my Dragon XII..The random .38 you guys still have."

There's a long silence in which Salazar stares at Gresham. It's the unicorns part that gets her attention. She regards the man for a long moment. "Unicorns." That really isn't helping the sanity check. "Did you sustain any permanent injuries from your dance with the PFC?"

"How awesome they are." Virgil replies flatly, before he's nodding along. "Also about bunnies and animals. Stuff like that. How she'd like to be on Scorpia and do vet work. Which I guess is a cry for a bit of normalcy.." As for the second question, Gresham shakes his head "Just a mild concussion-that's what the Doctor's said." And he's looking back to Salazar. "I had one of those once before-when I tried playing peewee pyramid..Yeah Frakked that up."

Salazar considers Gresham for a long moment. Her dark eyes betray none of her thoughts, which is probably a good thing at the moment. "Pyramid. Not my game." She nods to the nugget. "Did she seem different to you in the last few days? Anxious? Upset?"

"Not mine either, trust me." Virgil adds, before he is handing the S2 her spare pen back. "Did she seem different? No." Gresham says. "No. When we were together we just kinda joked and laughed. Never once did something seem off. Last we spoke, we planned to go on a date-That didn't come off to me as something was wrong-unless." a pause "Unless you think there's something wrong entirely with that..I can understand. I mean, I'm not much-Hell I don't think I register on anyone's one radar." Gresham adds, with a rub under his eye. "I dunno-she got me. Like understood me and I her. Well, I thought I did." A laugh there. "Guess I was wrong on that one-Leave it to me to pick someone who just ups and blows up the ship one day."

"I've seen men do worse when choosing women to date, Gresham." Salazar doesn't go any further with that, however. She makes a note to herself on a scrap of paper on the edge of her desk. "That's all the questions I had at this time, Crewman. If you have any further notes you'd like to include in your report, please submit them to me via signed statement." She slides a few more folders into a drawer, slides it closed, then locks it.

"Yes Sir." Gresham says before he is standing up. "Sir. Uh." a look screwing across his face. "Permission to-ask a question?"

Salazar nods. Her dark eyes remain on the pilot, and she says simply, "Granted."

Gresham nods once, before he is shifting his hands into his pocket. "I know, you'll probably say no- and laugh at me or something.." A pause "But..If there was any way possible.." A laugh, mainly at himself. "If there was anyway possible, could I see her..Just once-I just want to see her once, and you can sit there yourself and monitor the conversation. But, I just need to do it, for my own sanity-for closure to make sure I am not as stupid or as frakked as I feel right now. It doesn't have to be long at all- when you want just tell me to go." boy did that all spill out. "Please, sir. Just once?"

Salazar looks directly across at the pilot, and she holds his gaze. "When and if she's cleared, you can submit a request for visitation. I have to tell you, Crewman, it doesn't look good at this point. If decisions come down from Command that will make it a now or never situation, I'll see what I can do." Translation: If they decide to give Jules the firing squad, she'll do her best to arrange a visit.

"I know." Gresham admits after a moment, and with though the rest of the words that tumble, Gresham's own look seems to tumble with it. Perhaps a moment of relief-ope shown rather easily in his eyes. Yeah. "Thank you sir." Salute up. He'll hold before peeling into the hallway- Honest.

The salute is returned this time, and Salazar watches the pilot go. She checks her desk once, grabs her coffee, and makes for the hatch. It's sweats wearing time. Off with the blues! "At least nothing exploded today," she mutters to herself on the way out.